


Letter of Marque

by lemonsharks



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anniversary, Bittersweet, F/F, Pirates, Presents, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsharks/pseuds/lemonsharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Viscountess Hawke gives Isabela a pirate license for their anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter of Marque

The circlet of her office sat heavy on her head.

Hawke watched the dust rise from the space where the Chantry used to stand, no sanctuary now. Only corpses in the rubble. The grit coated the insides of her throat and eyelids, made them itch, made them water. Good story to tell when people asked.

Varric asked, and the others; _Kirkwall_ was too busy wanting something.

“Be a good girl and run this down to the big Qunari in the courtyard, hm?” she said, handing the runner a folded note, a summons, to come collect the rest of his souls. “He’s all painted up red. You can’t miss him.”

Varric asked how she was holding, and Sebastian gave the sacraments for the dead. Rituals she presided over, hollow words for a city that should have wanted her dead. She adjusted the circlet and wondered whether she’d wear it as long as Dumas had done.

Dust wasn’t supposed to last for months and months, and yet. A cloud of the stuff hung over the city, turned the air into a haze and raced in funnels through the streets.

“You’re looking very long in the face,” Isabela said, leaning in the doorway.

“Isabela!”

Hawke did not vault the desk, but she bounded across her office in two strides, gown flying behind her. Isabela knocked the circlet from her hair and spun her around the room. The door slammed shut, and next Hawke knew she’d been hoisted onto her desk for a very thorough kiss. Or two, or seven.

“When did the _Osprey_ get in?” she asked, and, “Should I be concerned about contraband?”

“This morning, and no,” Isabela said, “Because I wouldn’t tell you about anything questionable on my ship, anyway.”

She laughed, then. The first time in–Maker, since before her coronation. “Did you know that it’s been a year, since–”

“That’s why I’m here, lovely.”

“I have something for you.”

“Oooh, tell me! I love surprises!”

“Those two things don’t go together, you know.”

Isabela made a face, but she stepped away from where she’d pinned Hawke on the desk. She shifted her weight on her feet, flexed her fingers, looked very much like she wished she had an awful drink in her hands. Just so she’d have something to do with her hands.

Hawke had given a great deal of thought to her gift, to the sort of pirate Isabela was. She took no slaves and left bodies in her wake only when she had to–focused on the kinds of ships carrying expensive baubles rather than small-timers’ livelihoods. She was good to her crew and her cats.

Plunder was her means to the end of the sea, money and rum a nice consequence. Time spent in irons, or the sign of a pirate branded into her flesh, less so. And she couldn’t be out on the deck beside her, helping talk or fight their way out of the scrapes they planned on getting into together. Hawke hadn’t even picked up her staff in half a year.

She took a tube of vellum from her desk and unrolled it, dipped her pen in ink and signed the release with a flourish.

“Kirkwall stands with you,” she said, “if you want her too. I can’t haul nets or climb rigging for you, but I can keep you safe in my own way, if you’ll let me.”

She turned over the document, that named Isabela privateer for the city of Kirkwall, and laid out by name a number of their known antagonists. A few old friends, a few new thorns in her foot.

Isabela’s face changed as she read, brows drawn together over a small frown at first, while she made heads and tails of what was said. Then her smile crept upward onto the corners of her mouth and lit her eyes. Hawke bit her lip.

“I have one question for you, Hawke.”

“Ask anything I have in my power to give, and it’s yours.”

Isabela laughed. “Does it come with a hat?”

“The biggest you’ve ever seen.”


End file.
